


Fine

by itsallAvengers



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Domestic Avengers, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, what else would expect from him though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: He was absolutely fine. Like he'd said, today was a normal day. Full of normal things, and normal friends, and normal routines.It was also the day Obie had yanked his heart out of his chest and then used his own design to try and murder him with, but who the hell cared about that? If he decided to freak out on the date that every bad thing ever happened, he'd be a mess.(He already was a mess, but whatever.)





	Fine

**Author's Note:**

> My asshole friend Rory at like 1am, plaguing me with good ideas: write one where. idk. it's Unestablished and where Tony's havin a breakdown and, idk, Bucky finds him somehow and comforts him by Hugging him and rubbing his back AND SMOOCHES HIS CHEEK OR WHATEVER
> 
> Me, with no concept of time or boundaries: SURE LET'S JUST INVEST LIKE FIVE SOLID HOURS INTO THIS. IT'S SEVEN AM. THE SUN HAS ALREADY FUCKIGN RISEN. WHO CARES.

_Today is going to be a normal day_ , Tony told himself, as he pulled down the the covers and sat up in his bed.

 

The sun was just beginning to rise above the new York horizon, and Tony felt the soft warmth of the light as they hit his skin. It was a lovely day, bright and clear- the type of day that people always gushed about to their friends before dragging them out for barbecues and whatnot.

The team would probably want to go out. Use the pool. Bathe in the sun. That sort of shit.

 

Tony would not be joining them.

 

Sighing and running a hand through his hair, he bit back a sigh and tried to expel the invasive nightmares that lingered in the back of his mind. They always came back, harder and stronger and more unbearable around this time of year. It had been keeping him up for days- this was the first time he'd even hit a bed in weeks now.

"You're fine," he told himself quietly, grabbing a ratty jumper from the arm of his couch and pulling it over his bare shoulders.

And he was. He was absolutely fine. Like he'd said, today was a normal day. Full of normal things, and normal friends, and normal routines.

 

It was also the day Obie had yanked his heart out of his chest and then used his own design to try and murder him with, but who the hell cared about that? If he decided to freak out on the date that every bad thing ever happened, he'd be a mess.

(He already was a mess, but whatever.)

 

"Sir, perhaps you should warn the team of your current state-" JARVIS began, but Tony quickly waved that off, shaking his head jerkily and making his way to the doors. "That will not be necessary, JARVIS, I don't need to give Barton any more ammunition than he already has. Anyway- I'm fine. Just a little on edge. It'll pass. It always passes."

"That does not mean someone should not be here for you until it does," JARVIS told him quietly.

Tony ignored him. It was easier to ignore, than to acknowledge he was probably right. "JARVIS, just... just stick with me, buddy, okay?"

Today wasn't going to be a normal day, not really. His days rarely were any more.

 

"Always, sir," JARVIS answered

 

*****

 

"He rises!" Sam called, as Tony stumbled down into the kitchen, heading dazedly for the coffee machine in the far left corner.

"F'ckoff," he muttered, rubbing his eyes an carefully sidestepping Thor's hammer, which he'd decided to just drop on the middle of the floor.

"Tony, it's before 11- are you sleepwalking?" Steve added, turning a little from where he was cooking on the stove to shoot Tony an amused little smile.

"F'ckoff," he said again, this time accompanied by a yawn.

"Son of a bitch, are you okay Stark? Are you ill? Dying? In imminent danger?" Clint called from the countertop, where he was clutching his mug of coffee.

"F'ckoff double," Tony replied, giving Clint a shove and then stealing the mug from his hands, tipping his head back and swallowing the contents before Clint could take it back.

"Why do I get a double fuck off?" Clint asked, pouting.

" 'cause i hate you most. Now f'ckoff."

"Charming," the archer said grumpily, snatching the now empty mug back and looking sadly down at it. Next to him, Sam rolled his eyes and took it from him, heading toward the coffee machine.

"NO!" Tony yelled pointing a finger and shaking his head. "Machine. Mine. Dibs. Fuck off."

"You should stop telling everyone to fuck off, or one day we actually will, and you'll be all on you lonesome," Natasha commented, sliding silently into the room along with them and grinning when Tony turned his scowl on her.

He opened his mouth to tell her what he thought of her opinion (hint: it was 'f'ckoff'), but as he turned around, his back bumped into someone else. Jerking back around, he directed his scowl at them instead, getting prepared for his sixth curse of the morning.

Bucky looked down and smiled, and the desire to swear at him was decreased to zero.

"Morning," he said instead, unable to resist a smile of his own as Bucky stepped out of his way and began steering him in the direction of the coffee with an amused grin on his gorgeous face.

Natasha smirked into her hand. "Okay, never mind. Bucky will stay with you, what was I thinking?"

Tony ignored her. No doubt Bucky was scowling at her and mouthing for her to cut it out from across the room. That was what he usually did. And Tony was fine with that, yes sir, he was a grown man who could deal with a stupid crush. 

It was fine.

Instead, he concentrated on putting caffeine in his body as fast as possible, reaching out for the cupboard and searching for his favourite mug.

He stared for forty seconds at the four different mugs that were left on the shelf before finally wrinkling his nose in understanding. "Did one of you fucks take my mug?"

"Uhh... is your mug the one with cartoons of Bucky's arm all over it?" Sam asked, turning his own cup over in his hands, "because if so, then yes. I am the offending 'fuck'."

Tony spun around and glowered, calculating the distance he'd have to jump in order to cross the room and snatch  _his mug_  out of Sam's stupid hands.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Buck, Tony's got his math face on. Grab him before he lunges."

Bucky just laughed, shrugging over at Sam. "Can't help you. You took his mug. I don't make the rules."

Sam's eyes widened, unnerved by Tony's intense gaze. "Yeah, but you're the only one who can control him in the mornings. Come on man, I don't wanna get attacked. It's too early."

Tony didn't break eye contact, but he guessed Bucky was probably blushing. He had a weird habit of doing that an awful lot; for a trained assassin slash spy slash hardened killer, he sure did go red easily. 

There was a brief interlude of silence, and then Bucky huffed and stepped in front of Tony and Sam, breaking the staring competition. "I pin him, you get the mug," he whispered quietly, smirking as Tony's eyes glanced up at him and then nodded, totally serious.

"Sorry, Wilson," Bucky said, turning around and then diving for his arms, pinning them to the table and leaving his mug exposed in his hand.

Sam yelped as Tony attacked, vaulting the table and prying each finger off the handle of his mug, fast and effective. It was over in three seconds, and Bucky let Sam's arms go, watching sheepishly as Sam rubbed his elbows and muttered something along the lines of "so fucking whipped, Jesus Christ, _asshole."_

"Yay," Tony said happily, drinking Sam's remains too, and Bucky knocked shoulders with him lightly before turning back around to the paper he'd been reading on the countertop before Tony had walked in.

Tony let himself admire the view for a few seconds more than he would normally, if he had been caffeinated and fully awake, before turning back to the machine and slamming the buttons on autopilot. 

 

The others were talking, and Tony let it wash over him, their familiar banter allowing him some room to relax a little. It was fine; he had coffee now, and everyone had greeted him as they always did. No one had tried to rip out his-

_Stop it_

He shook the thought from his head almost violently. Those were the kind of thoughts that sent him into this mess in the first place. And he had no room for them in his day today- his schedule was already full. He had to upgrade Bucky's arm, and that would take a long time. No room for breakdowns today.

He was fine.

 

"Tony? Are you even aware that I'm talking?" Steve asked, a look of fond exasperation on his face as he poked Tony's arm.

He resisted the urge to flinch. Barely.

"Uhh. What?" He asked, switching absently to Steve and focusing as much of his concentration on him as he could muster.

"I asked if you were coming to join us at the pool. It's a lovely day- we should spend it relaxing for once," Steve explained.

 

Ah. Of course. Lovely weather. Obviously that meant water. Or pools. Whatever.

Same thing.

 

Tony shook himself out of his head, trying to focus back on Steve's face, rather than watching his hands move. "Um. No. I don't... I have to work," he said, turning around and picking up an apple from the fruit bowl, looking for something to fiddle with that wasn't his reactor.

No need to draw attention to it, after all. Just in case.

He sensed the frowns against his back, but ignored them. it was true, after all. He always had to work. They were _superheroes,_ damn it, he was allowed that excuse.

"Come on, Tony," Natasha said in her most gently voice, "you need a break. Just an hour or two, then you can retreat back to your hermit cave, if you want."

"Yeah, man, you've been looking pretty wiped these days," Sam added, and Tony just concentrated harder on the apple in his hands- going for a chopping board as he grabbed a knife and started cutting.

 

 _Cut. Cut. Cut._ Rhythmic. Familiar. It was fine.

 

Bucky was shuffling again now, and Tony briefly glanced over to him, noticing the crease in his brow as he watched Tony go at the apple enthusiastically.  _You okay?_ He mouthed, cocking his head.

Tony smiled as best he could, smug and charming, because that was what he knew. He could do smiles. Smiles were his forte.

 

"Come on, Tony. I'll get you outta that damn shop of yours if I have to drag you kicking and screaming," Steve said lightly, and  _boy_ , Tony was well aware that he didn't hold back his flinch this time, but it didn't seem anyone had seen it, which was lucky.

Except maybe Bucky. He was looking pretty concerned now, stepping forward and calling Tony's name softly, questioning.

Tony didn't _need_ soft. He was fine. Cut the apple. Drink the coffee. Get through the day, relax in the workshop, go to sleep- see, he'd got it down. No fights, no paralysis, he was gonna be okay.

 

There was the sound of moving footsteps, and Clint's voice was very close (too close) to him as he stated, "buddy, I think you need, like, a cutoff, or something. No work after 5pm."

Footsteps were getting closer now. Tony couldn't see him, his back was turned, but he could sense them, crawling up behind him. Nearer and nearer, and who the hell knew what Barton was carrying in his hands, it could be anything-

 

 

After that, everything happened in a very quick succession. Couldn't have been more than a second, really.

 

 

Tony watched Clint's arm curl around his shoulder, hand beginning to settle just above his reactor. 

He heard Bucky yell and stumble forward, telling Clint not to, to back off, but at this point, there was no going back.

Tony felt himself spin, the terror and the sheer, blind panic completely overwhelming every other thought in his mind, leaving only  _defend attack, defend, attack._

 

And so he plunged the knife in his hand straight forward, and felt the reverberations up his arm as it impacted with something. There was a sudden yell- lots of yells, in fact- and Tony's hand was still gripping the hilt of the knife, buried in-

 

A chopping board.   
Held aloft by Bucky.   
An inch of wood between the point of the blade and Clint's chest.

 

 

The room was quieter than Tony had ever heard it before. Or maybe he was just unaware of the sounds. His hand was still very firmly connected with the knife.

 

He knew he was hyperventilating; it was the only noise he could actually hear. The blood rushing to his muscles was making him shake almost uncontrollably, and his head felt like it was being crushed between two hard surfaces. He couldn't move.

 

He'd been about to stab Clint.

 

_Fuck._

 

His hand had released it's grip on the knife. It stayed embedded in the wood.

 

 

He ran.

 

 

**_____Bucky_____**

 

 

He'd known something had been up as soon as Tony had tensed at Steve's suggestion.

He should have seen the signs, really. God, he saw them in himself often enough.

 

Everyone was still frozen in place; shock, horror and fear carved into their faces as they stared at the chopping board Bucky was still holding up to Clint's chest.

No one had moved an inch since Tony's episode. Clint was still staring dumbly down at the knife, inches away from touching his shoulder.

 

" _Holy shit,_ " Clint eventually whispered, stumbling back from the knife like he'd only just seen it and staring at Bucky. "I... my God, dude- thanks? How the fuck did you react that fast?"

Bucky grimaced, letting the board drop back on to the countertop with a thud. "I saw it coming. Not fast enough, but faster than you, anyway."

"What the damn hell just happened?" Steve yelled incredulously, walking forward and glancing over Clint and Bucky, despite the fact they were both obviously unharmed.

"He had a PTSD episode. Thought that much was obvious," Bucky replied grimly.

"He nearly goddamn killed Clint!" Steve said, eyes wide. Bucky just rolled his in reply.

"He was aiming for the shoulder. I saw it. He actively moved it from Clint's chest. If he'd wanted Clint dead, he would've done it. He was being slow on purpose."

"Did that look  _slow_  to you? Jesus- is he crazy?"

"He wasn't fucking _aware of himself,_ Steve, do you fucking remember what I used to try to do to you if you touched me at the wrong time?" Bucky snapped.

"Why the hell was this the wrong time for him, though?" Natasha asked. She'd somehow moved herself to Clint's side, and her hand was resting on his shoulder worriedly.

Bucky shrugged. "Guess I'm gonna go find that out."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Sam asked.

Bucky growled. "I think it's a pretty fuckin' sick idea to just leave him to himself if he's in that state."

"I'm just worried if it's gonna be safe for you, pal- if he's got the suit-"

"If I may interrupt," JARVIS cut in briskly, "he prohibited himself from wearing the suit when experiencing an episode like this. He is currently in his room. He is not armed."

 

That was all Bucky needed. Without another word to his friends, he left off in the direction of Tony's room, walking quickly and purposefully

 

He had no idea what had happened to Tony, but he intended to find out.

 

*****

 

He tried knocking on the door three times to no avail before eventually letting himself in.

 

The room was dark and the curtains drawn, but the light was creeping in through the cracks between the material anyway. Bucky could see Tony's bed, messy and unmade in the centre of the room and backing up against the opposing wall.

Bucky couldn't see anyone else here, but JARVIS had assured him that this was where Tony had gone.

"Tony?" He called softly, keeping himself at the threshold."Tony, are you okay?"

No reply.

"Tony, I'm really worried- can I come in?"

Nothing.

"Okay, I'm gonna come in now. You can tell me to leave whenever you want," Bucky explained quietly, stepping further in and scanning the room.

There was a hitch of breath across the room, and Bucky zeroed in on it instantly, turning and walking in it's direction, keeping his footsteps heavy so that Tony could hear him approaching. Walking around the bed, he craned his neck into the corner of the room, eyes softening as he spotted Tony, legs tucked up against his chest as he stared into space, empty and blank aside from the tear-tracks that lined his face.

"Hey Tony," Bucky said quietly, unlocking his legs and falling gently to the floor, crossing his legs and keeping his body open. "Bad day, huh?" He asked, aiming for the light approach.

Tony didn't even acknowledge it. Bucky wasn't even sure he'd registered that he wasn't alone any more.

"Tony, babe, c'mon, look at me," Bucky whispered, wishing he could just reach out and touch, hold Tony's body tight against his own and refuse to let go until Tony was better again. Not that he ever would- not in a situation like this. That was just stupid.

There was just silence again. Another tear slipped out of the corner of Tony's eye and slowly made it's way down his cheek. He was completely out of it- that much was obvious. Bucky wasn't quite sure what to do; his own PTSD episodes had manifested themselves far more violently than this. His room (and Steve, for a short period of time anyway) had the marks to prove it.

 

So Bucky didn't do anything. He just sat on his ass and waited, talking quietly as he did. About his day, about which way Sam had pissed him off that week. Anything and everything he could think of, hoping that Tony was taking it in somehow.

 

It was probably about an hour later when Tony suddenly looked at him. Bucky jumped, the sudden movement freaking him out a little.

"Clint," he choked, voice hoarse and broken in a way that he'd never heard in Tony before.

He hated it. Hated seeing him like this more than anything else in the damn world.

"He's fine, don't worry," Bucky assured him quickly, "knife never even hit him. The most he's feeling is worry for you. You gave us a scare back there."

Tony looked to Bucky, clapping a hand against his mouth in horror, as if only just remembering what had happened. "Oh my god... I... holy shit. I nearly killed him. i nearly killed- fuck- _oh my_ _god,_ i nearly-"

Tony began choking, his own breath refusing to come through his throat as his hands moved into his hair, clutching tightly at the strands. Bucky knew this was a man teetering dangerously close to the edge, and Bucky was fighting every protective bone in his body that wished to hold, to touch, to kiss it all away as much as he could, no matter how futile the effort was.

That wasn't his place.

"No, Tony, you wouldn't have. You would've got his shoulder. I looked, I watched where it hit, you made the conscious effort to twist at the last minute, you wouldn't have killed him, please- calm down," Bucky begged, as Tony curled in even tighter on himself. It didn't look like he was even breathing at all, now.

Bucky was near panic himself, now. Tony was going to hurt himself unless Bucky could talk him down, but he had no idea  _how_. With him, it had just been a question of letting him beat it out on a punching bag. Tony was... Tony's mind was waging war with itself in the confines of his own brain, and Bucky had no idea what the hell to do.

 

 _"Who's strong and brave, here to save, the American way?_ __Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right night and day?_ _ __Who will campaign door-to-door for America,_ _Carry the flag shore to shore for America,_ _From Hoboken to Spokane-_ _The Star Spangled Man with a Plan!"_ _

Oh god. This was a bad idea.

Bucky paused, trying to grasp the next verse from the depth of his memory. "Uhh- _We can't ignore there's a threat, and a war, we must win- who'll..._  hang, someone? From Berlin?"

Next time he looked up, Tony was staring at him, a mixture of lingering panic and complete bafflement on his face as he said "What... the fuck are you doing, Bucky?"

"Um, I'm singing?  _Who will redeem, head the call for America- who'll_... uh..."

"Rise or fall, give his all for America," Tony said quietly.

"YEAH!" Bucky clicked his finger, " _Who'll rise or fall, give his all, for America. Who’s here to prove that we can? The Star Spangled Man with a Plan!"_

There was a silence. Bucky wondered if he'd finally snapped- who the fuck decided to sing a fucking song to someone who was having a mental breakdown? What the fuck was wrong with him? He'd heard Tony mumbling the tune _twice,_ tops, and suddenly he's fucking singing the stupid thing in order to try and calm him down? Was he _fucking crazy?_

 

"Did you just... did you just sing 'Star Spangled Man With A Plan' to pull me off the fucking ledge?" Tony said slowly.

 

"...I may have panicked a little." Bucky admitted.

"And the first thought that popped into your strange little brain was to fucking sing that shit? Are you _okay?"_

"Hey, it worked, didn't it! At least you're breathin' now!" Bucky argued, unable to contain his sigh of relief as he watched Tony's chest heave, short, sharp little breaths- but breaths all the same.

Tony laughed, brittle and fake. "Yeah. Guess so. Well done, you fucking sung me back to sanity."

Bucky sighed, trying to think of what to say. "Tony... what happened?" He eventually asked.

There was an intake of breath. "None of your fucking business, Barnes."

"Okay," Bucky shrugged, understanding. "You can tell me when you're ready. I'm just gonna...sit here, until you tell me to leave, okay?"

Tony looked at him viciously and opened his mouth. Bucky sighed, but got ready to move all the same. He wouldn't go against Tony's orders, but sometimes he just fucking wished that Tony would accept help sometimes. 

 

Tony got to the first word before he cut himself off. "No," he whispered, face crumpling a little. "Please...don't go."

And suddenly, he was crying again; face tucked in between his knees as he sobbed. It was quiet and broken and so,  _so_  sad, it made Bucky's heart ache.

"Oh, baby," he whispered.

"Fuck. I- sorry, sorry," Tony muttered, wiping a hand across his cheek and staring at the floor. The tears didn't stop- he just managed to silence them somehow. Bucky guessed it was a trick he'd learnt long ago.

"Tony?" Bucky asked, hedging a tiny bit further. "Am I allowed to touch you? Because I'd like to hug you right now. Whatever you want, though."

Again, Bucky thought he was about to be refused when Tony curled a little tighter in on himself. But almost immediately after, he loosened up again, nodding his head. "Go ahead."

And Bucky wanted to scramble as fast as he could; but he didn't. He went slowly, carefully. "Where do you want my arms?" He asked, once he'd reached Tony's side.

Tony gave him a look, and Bucky stared right back. "Clint touched you in the wrong place and that triggered all of this, so- where do you want my arms?"

A pause, and then, "waist, please."

Slowly, Bucky let his arms wrap around Tony's thin waist, pulling him in and hugging him tightly. Tony was shaking violently, but almost as soon as Bucky had reached for him, Tony was melting- gripping tightly to the fabric of Bucky's shirt as Bucky rocked them both gently, back and forth.

Slowly, Tony began crying again, allowing himself to fall apart properly now he was safe in Bucky's arms. Through it all, Bucky just rubbed his back softly, whispering quiet words of assurance and kissing the hair at the crown of Tony's head every now and again, a wordless reassurance that Bucky was there, that he wasn't leaving. There wasn't a force on Earth that would drag him away right now. Not when Tony needed him.

 

They stayed like that for a while, until eventually Tony wore himself out. He stopped crying, but didn't let go of Bucky's neck, where he'd latched on a good thirty minutes ago. Bucky didn't mind. Tony's hands were warm and familiar on his skin.

 

"Six years ago today, someone I trusted with my life ripped out my arc reactor from my chest and then tried to kill me. It...uh, leaves some bad memories, I guess."

 

Bucky froze, glad Tony couldn't see the look of horror that passed over his face at Tony's words. "Oh my god. Tony,  _holy shit,_  why didn't you warn us?"

Tony shrugged, burying his head a little further into Bucky's neck as he whispered, "thought I could deal. I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't know this would happen."

"Yeah, I can't imagine you did," Bucky agreed grimly, gripping Tony a little closer to his chest. "Is that why you haven't been sleeping lately?"

"How the hell did you know that?" Tony asked, lifting his head a little to stare at Bucky in confusion, who felt his cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

"I...uh... JARVIS sometimes- tells me? I notice these things, okay! And you were looking more tired than usual, so I just asked him, 'cause when you're tired you look more sad and I hate seeing you sad. Makes me wanna punch shit. So...yeah," he said weakly, burying himself a little deeper with each and every word, because he seemed unable to fucking cap his verbal torrent when Tony looked at him like that, _god fucking damn it._

Tony looked at him, eyes narrowed and mouth pouting just a little bit, before he exhaled suddenly, a little  _"oh,"_  of understanding that had Bucky paling in horror.

 

_Tony knew._

 

And honestly, Bucky was about ready to just throw himself out of the damn window in embarrassment when Tony's mouth slowly began curling up, a mixture of surprise and pure happiness on his face that had Bucky involuntarily smiling with him, because _damn,_ that shit was just so gorgeous. Bucky could handle exposing himself if it meant Tony looked like that.

 

"I'm just gonna... perform an experiment," the other man muttered, still smiling a little as he curled his hand a little further around Bucky's neck and pulled him down until their lips met in a kiss.

 

It was soft and delicate, like Tony was testing the waters a little before diving in. Bucky squeaked in surprise, unable to stop himself from kissing back just a little, revelling in the wonderful feeling of Tony's mouth against his own. It was everything he'd been dreaming about for  _months_  now- and his body hated him so,  _so_  much for pulling away a second later.

Tony pouted a little when Bucky removed himself from Tony's space. "Uhhh- what are you doing?"

"Tony, I don't think you're in the right state of mind to be doing this sorta thing," Bucky told him, eyes fixed on Tony's mouth.

Tony scoffed, "I've done far worse with people whilst in far worse states of mind, Barnes."

"And you think that makes me _more_ willing to kiss you, huh? You ain't much for tactics, are you Tony?" He muttered, forcefully tearing his eyes away from the soft red lips that he'd been _kissing_ a few moments ago in order to stare challengingly down at Tony.

He opened his mouth, but after taking one look at Bucky's face, he seemed to realise it was futile, so he just huffed out an exhausted sigh and sunk back into Bucky's arms. "Whatever. We'l come back to this later, then."

Bucky smiled, kissing the top of his head. "Later. For now, I'm gonna put you into bed. You look like you need about three days of sleep."

"That's not very nice."

"Well I ain't known for bein' nice, Stark. Come on," he huffed, scooping Tony up with little effort and then directing him toward the bed.

Tony was obviously far more exhausted than he had been letting on, because as soon as Bucky had laid him down on the bed, he was snuggling a little further into the pillow, allowing Bucky to tuck him in in a way that he almost certainly would not have allowed had he been any less than completely wiped. Sighing worriedly, he stroked the stray hairs out of Tony's face with a few fingers, letting them linger for a little against Tony's temple before straightening with a crack of bones.

 

Tony looked so beautiful. Puffy-eyed and a little too thin, with dark circles under his eyes and hair that needed a wash- but still managing to take Bucky's breath away anyhow. How Tony managed that; in the same way he managed it whenever he came into Bucky's line of sight, was a complete mystery.

 

He was about to wish Tony goodnight when the man suddenly raised a hand, slipping it around Bucky's metal arm and holding him in place. "Stay," he croaked, eyes looking at Bucky almost pleadingly. "Please. I can't... I can't sleep."

There was no way Bucky was about to resist a look like that. Not from Tony.

Wordlessly, he crawled in to the other side of the bed, careful not to touch until Tony huffed and pulled his arms around his waist. "Thank you," he added quietly, squeezing Bucky's hand and rolling so that his face was tucked into Bucky's chest. "Thank you for being here."

 

Bucky couldn't resist; he lifted Tony's chin up and kissed him softly on the forehead.

 

Always, Tony."

**Author's Note:**

> This probably has a fuckload of mistakes and general blunders because. I was really tired and generally just too lazy to properly read through my own shit, so I'm sorry. ANYWAY. Hope u enjoyed :)


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